Chapter 9
MASON
Parker has slept beside me every single night for the past five days.
Except for tonight, because he has a very important mission.
He’d left in his hot-as-hell mission clothes, including his murder shoes, and he’d given me his gentle smile that is starting to make me sweat instead of calming me down.
Now it’s a little past midnight and I can’t sleep.
The bed doesn’t feel right without the gentle dip on his side from his overly warm body.
I mean, is his temperature always a million degrees?
Not that I hate it because most nights I’m cold.
The warmth of his body lulls me to sleep.
Without him my body aches from the cold pressing in on me.
What will happen when we finally touch? Will I ignite into flames from all this wanting?
After tossing and turning for a while, I finally decided to just give up. I can’t go downstairs because Parker’s whole you can’t be downstairs without me order is still in effect even when he’s not home.
Around one in the morning, the sound of the car pulling into the garage has me rolling out of bed in excitement.
The garage door creaks open when I’m halfway down the stairs.
For a second, fear shoots through me, as I worry that it’s not Parker, that it’s the same people who stole Reid.
I sink down to a crouch on the stairs, watching fearfully as Parker walks into the shadowed hallway.
He’s clutching his side, breathing strangely, and walking with a limp. Fuck.
“Parker?” I call out softly.
Parker startles a little but then finds me crouching down on the stairs. Under his gaze, I stand to my full height, only now realizing I’m just wearing boxer briefs and one of Parker’s larger T-shirts. His nostrils flare at the sight of me and my cock takes immediate notice. Oh.
“Why aren’t you asleep?” Parker asks, sounding oddly out of breath.
“You weren’t there and it felt wrong. I couldn’t sleep.”
Parker swears under his breath, then lifts the hand not clutching his ribs to tiredly rub his face. He looks so exhausted. My heart aches for him, stirring up this urge to take care of him like he so often takes care of me.
“Come on,” I say, holding my hand out to him in invitation.
He looks at my hand and firms his jaw. “Go on. Let me shower and then I’ll join you on the bed. Give me a bit?”
“No.”
Parker’s eyebrows wing up in clear surprise. “No?”
“I want to see why you’re clutching your side like that.”
Parker huffs a frustrated laugh. “Go on. I’ll see you in a minute.”
I wiggle my fingers at him once more. “Come on. You can use my shower, it’s bigger.”
Parker swallows loudly but gives up his fight. It takes him double the time it normally does to climb the stairs. I move aside so he can limp into the bathroom under the soft lighting. He glances at me over his shoulder and sighs deeply at whatever look he sees on my face.
“I’m fine,” Parker grumbles, clearly annoyed.
“I’ll decide on that.” I take a step forward, so our bare feet almost touch. “Take your clothes off.”
“Mason.”
“Parker.”
He stares at me. I stare at him.
Finally, he gives up and starts to unbutton his shirt one-handed. I dip down under the sink and grab a pair of latex gloves. Parker’s eyebrows furrow in a very cute manner, but I try to not show him that I find him adorable by keeping my face as blank as possible.
“Uh.”
I wave his concern away while snapping on the gloves. “We’re not playing doctor. Unless you’re interested in that?”
Parker looks simultaneously turned on and a little confused. “I don’t know. Maybe I am.”
I huff out a delighted laugh. Batting hands away so he can go back to clutching his side, I slowly unbutton his shirt, tenderly easing it over his broad shoulders.
Parker hisses as I get the shirt over the shoulder on the side that’s causing him pain.
I ignore whatever injury he has to move on to unbuckling his belt.
The temperature in the room goes up about ten million degrees as I carefully tug his belt off.
I can hear every quiet inhale and exhale from Parker, even feel his warm, sweet breath on my face.
It doesn’t gross me out like I once thought it would.
Once I’ve got his pants unbuttoned, I wiggle them down over his hips, his strong thighs, then let them fall to the ground.
Finally, Parker stands only in his boxer briefs.
Ignoring the beauty of the specimen in front of me is hard, but I decide to focus on his injury.
With a loud, displeased sigh, Parker lets his hand drop from his right side.
His ribs have already turned a dark purple, and I can’t help but reach out to gently touch the blossoming bruise.
Parker releases an agonized hiss and I go to pull away, but he stops me with a firm shake of his head.
“Wasn’t… Wasn’t the pain. It was the fact you touched me.”
I lift my gaze to his, catching the hot desire in his eyes. “Oh.”
I look back to his ribs, then let my gaze drift down to his hardening cock in his boxer briefs. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re hard…” I wonder aloud.
Parker chuckles ruefully. “Mace, I get hard if I’m just in the same room as you.”
I swallow loudly. “Because of me?”
“Yeah,” Parker says gruffly. “Only because of you.”
“Can you… Can you shower with that injury? Brush your teeth?”
Parker tilts his head, and his grin is slow and lecherous.
Every bone in my body melts into a puddle of goo just from that one look.
Without argument, Parker uses his uninjured arm to push down his underwear, and I try to keep my cool when his erect cock bounces against his stomach.
A bead of pre-cum shines against his skin in the muted light of the bathroom.
He slowly reaches into the shower with his good arm, and turns it on, the water splashing against the dark tiles the only sound in the room for a few moments.
Parker carefully climbs into the shower while maintaining my gaze.
“Are you hard?” Parker asks as he carefully works shampoo into his hair.
“Yeah,” I admit, not an ounce embarrassed.
Parker leans against the tiled shower wall, gloriously naked and body on show just for me.
Soap trails over his sleek muscles, dripping between his legs, and that’s where my attention gets caught.
His cock is hard, curving toward his stomach, and easily an inch or two longer than mine and way more girthy.
What would it be like to take him into my mouth?
Two feelings war in me at once—anxiety prickles into my awareness at the idea of having his cock in my mouth, but the other half of me is aroused in a way I’ve never been before.
How in the world are we going to make this work?
Instead of getting caught up in the anxiety of how it won’t work, I let myself get caught up in the tide when Parker starts to work a soapy hand over his cock. Oh Jesus H. Christ. My mouth goes dry and my eyes flick up to meet his fathomless gaze.
“It’s okay to want me, Mason.”
I grimace but hold his gaze. “What if you change your mind…”
“I never want to hear you say that again,” Parker orders, his tone moving through me to shake me to my core. “If I could drop to my knees right now and suck your cock, I would. But I’ll settle for just one kiss, even if I have to drink a gallon of Listerine.”
“That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever and will ever say to me,” I admit through gasping pants. I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I feel warm and cold at the same time, every single nerve in my body alight at the idea of letting myself touch Parker, and being touched in return.
Parker grins like a hungry wolf. “I think I can do better.”
I watch in silence as he sensually washes his entire body, skipping his fingers along the lines of water dripping down his inviting skin.
Parker dry is a beautiful sight, but wet is a whole other thing entirely.
I think Parker is sexy in any form he takes, but he wants me?
The gangly guy that’s got curly red hair that grew back that way after chemo as a kid.
The guy that doesn’t always want to touch or be touched.
I feel the anxiety start to swell again, my thoughts start to take on a dark edge, so I focus back on Parker, gaze sharp and wanting, because Parker wants me, however I am. I at least know that.
Parker rinses his hair, then his body, and grabs a clean towel.
I’d replaced the one that was in there after my evening shower.
Every movement of his body is like that of a cheetah, sleek and practiced.
When he works his way toward me at the bathroom counter, I have to grip the granite to keep from falling over in a heap of messy want.
“Do you have mouthwash?” Parker asks so softly that I almost don’t hear him.
“Yeah… Yes. I mean, yes, I do.” I shift down to grab the bottle from under the counter along with a small paper cup.
Parker grins at me around his toothbrush as he starts to scrub not just at his teeth, but his gums and his tongue.
Fuck. Do I have a toothbrushing kink or is it just Parker?
After a few minutes, he leans over with a pained groan to spit the foamy toothpaste into the sink.
He runs water, splashing with his other hand until all the evidence of toothbrushing is gone.
I pour him some Listerine into the paper cup and hold it out to him with shaky fingers.
As he swishes the mouthwash, I replace it under the sink and stand to meet his gaze in the mirror.
The damp heat of the bathroom is suddenly replaced with sexual tension thick enough for me to choke on it.
Parker winks at me in the mirror, then carefully dips again to spit out the mouthwash.
I catch sight of the bruised ribs again, wondering if he needs a hospital, but I’m too caught up in wanting him to do anything about it.
“I’ll go see Mandy in the morning,” Parker swears.